Children Born in Chains
by Soniclover0028
Summary: "What have we to say for ourselves? We are enslaving innocent children! We are heartless beings, and, yet, we have the audacity to call the cold-blooded monsters!" The story of how four broken brothers were mended by a rat with a broken heart. "I can't go with you." "And why not?" "Because I'm not innocent. Owner took that away from me."
1. Prologue

_Children Born in Chains_

Prologue

By: Soniclover28

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><p>I never thought that love was something that a creature like me would ever experience. It was foreign outside of what remained of my family. Mother died before I could get the chance to know her. I've never seen Father's face. Oldest says he was handsome.<p>

I wonder if he had blue eyes like me. Maybe.

Owner likes me. I think. Sometimes he whips me for being too loud, or for making Louise cry. I guess she missed me and Owner thought I was supposed to be there. But sometimes, after Maid gives him his drinking juice, he pets me and tells me that I'm a 'good little boy'. Oldest hates it when he does that, but I think that Owner's just trying to be nice.

I like it when he's nice. But sometimes, he's too nice. And then I get sick, and Older gets really mad and breaks something and gets whipped. I feel bad for him. Owner isn't nice to them like he is to me.

Younger told me Owner was nice to me so that Older and Oldest would get mad. I don't get it. Maybe they're mad because Owner's nice to me and not them. But Older told me he wasn't mad at me. Then he told me that I'd understand when I'm older. I guess I'll just wait, then.

Maybe when I understand, Owner will sell us to someone who's nice to all of us. That would be good.

I don't like watching my brothers get whipped.

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><p><strong>Me:<strong> So... I kind of got this little idea in my head... And I wanted to see what I could do with it... What do you guys think? Yes, it's AU, if anyone's still wondering, lol.

Do you know who's perspective this is...? Take a guess, and you might get a cookie 8D


	2. Chapter 1

**Me:** I'm _baaaa~aack._

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><p><em>Children Born in Chains<em>

Chapter 1

By: Soniclover28

He watched the stream.

He knew he should be back in his tent with his brothers, but he loved watching this small body of water carry small fish down its current. He loved watching the colors of the sunset dance atop the surface of the water. He loved watching the water splash onto his stubby little toes and settle back into the mud that boarded the stream.

He sighed. He watched the stream.

What if he was as free as the stream?

He scoffed. He was a cold-blood. That would never happen.

"_Slave!_ Where are you hiding?!"

His eyes widened, and he shakily stood up, and slowly turned around to see a wolf. A giant, great white wolf that did not belong in the midst of a green forest, yet, here he was, with his white fur and golden eyes contrasting from the forest around him so much it almost hurt…

"This slave is here, Owner..."

The wolf whirled around with a snarl, his yellow eyes narrowing at the sight of a young turtle standing before him. The turtle stood, trembling, about four feet in height, dressed in nothing but the shell on his back and an orange piece of cloth around his neck.

The turtle's baby-blue eyes glistened in fear at the sight of the towering being looming over him.

"Why were you not in your hold?!" The wolf boomed.

"Th-this slave is sorry! Th-this slave lost track of time," The freckled turtle sputtered.

The wolf, with his teeth flashing a toothy sneer, unhooked something from the belt he wore to keep his tan shorts in place.

"What are doing here at such a late hour?" The wolf growled, straightening out the coil of leather he held in his hands.

The boy panicked. "I was just looking at the stream, Owner…!" The orange-banded amphibian exclaimed. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Forgive this slave for his incorrect grammar!"

"You are not to address yourself in such a way, pathetic scum!" And with that, the wolf cracked the whip at the turtle, and he cried out in pain as it struck his face. "You are not to leave your chamber unless given permission! You have no such thing!" The whip was cracked again, this time leaving a thin, but somewhat deep, line on the boy's arm. "Do not expect a meal tonight!"

The wolf snarled as he saw the turtle cower on his knees. He lashed the whip once more, and ordered the turtle to his feet. The slave complied, though he was still holding back a sob, and tears started to dribble down his cheeks, mixing with the blood from the lash on his face.

"To your chamber! Now! _Maid! _Escort the boy!" The wolf snarled to a figure behind him.

Immediately, another reptile—a lizard—stepped out from behind the wolf master, and wordlessly tied a rope around the turtle's neck. The noose was tight enough to restrain him, but loose enough to allow movement of his neck without feeling the pinch of the rope dig into his skin.

The lizard wore nothing but a short, beat up dress and a white cloth tied around her neck, similar to the turtle slave's.

The maid said nothing, and led the freckled turtle into a clearing. The clearing held five tents surrounding a fire, and two large, wooden wagons that were to be pulled two of the stronger slaves.

Once the maid and the slave were close to one of the smaller tents, she whispered, "You know he will want to see you tomorrow night… Why do you do these things, Youngest…?"

The freckled turtle gazed up at the lizard, and stared into her sad, brown eyes. "Because it's what Mother would've wanted me to do."

The lizard shook her head and removed the noose from the turtle's neck.

"Sleep well, Youngest."

The turtle nodded in acknowledgement, and crawled into the flap of the old tent.

"Youngest!" A voice piped from inside the tent. Through the dim light of the tent from the fire a few feet away, the freckled turtle made out three figures starting to crawl in the small tent to greet him. His brothers.

"Where have you been?" The other, slightly gruffer voice demanded. Suddenly, the emerald-eyed turtle paused. "He lashed you…?"

Youngest ran a three-fingered hand over the new gash on his face. It ran angrily across his cheek, slicing right through two of his freckles. "It is nothing, Older… I was just visiting the stream a few steps away."

"Let me see," the last voice said, and the turtle with chocolate irises scooted closer to the youngest brother, and inspected the two inflictions his little brother had gained. "It will heal. But keep out of the dirt, Youngest, or they will get worse."

"Thanks, Younger…"

"Youngest, what if he wishes to see you again…? You are of age; he will not hold any mercy, now…" Younger fretted, his hand brushing his little brother's shoulder.

Youngest flinched, and squeezed his eyes shut. He could already feel the fire that would consume his tail, and he instinctively tucked it as far as he could into his shell.

"I know…"

Older growled, his emerald eyes flashing a spot of anger. "Why not us? Why does he always pick Youngest…?"

Oldest shook his head, his deep, blue eyes sparkling in fear. "I do not know, Older…"

"Maybe I could ask him… tomorrow…" The youngest brother said, and was immediately met with shocked stares.

"You can't, Youngest!" The chocolate-eyed turtle exclaimed. "He will surely punish you!"

"Hush, Younger, the guards will hear you," Oldest said, and turned back to his smallest sibling. "Youngest, don't put yourself in danger for us, it's not—"

"It's not a big deal, Older," The freckled turtle argued. "Surely something as simple curiosity will not get us punished."

"'Simple curiosity' got you punished just now," Older snapped, "Don't talk to Owner when he handles you; just ignore him until he's finished."

"Older, you don't understand… It is very painful when he… I-I mean, it was never painful until I matured, but now…" Youngest cringed. He used to think that his owner was just trying to be nice to him, but after he matured, and his tail was able to react correctly to his master's treatment, it was anything _but _nice. Sometimes, when his master had had too much to drink, he would give Youngest some of his disgusting addiction, and he would be even worse than normal when he was returned to his brothers.

Older suddenly wrapped Youngest in an embrace, and the freckled turtle laid his head on his older brother's scarred plastron, the top of his head brushing against the tattered, red cloth that was tied around his big brother's neck.

"Maybe we'll be sold to a better master this year," Younger piped, fiddling with the purple cloth around his neck.

Oldest nodded in acknowledgement, "Perhaps…"

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><p>"Awaken, slaves! We have much ground to cover today!"<p>

Youngest jolted awake, and peeled himself from his brother's plastron. Yawning, he nudged his red-banded brother awake, and waited until his two other brothers roused before leaving the tent.

Upon coming outside, the freckled turtle watched as the clearing buzzed with cold-blooded slaves trying to pack up the tents, put out the fire, collect water from the stream, and pass out bowls of breakfast.

"Eat quickly." The baby-blue-eyed turtle turned his head to see a lizard—the maid from last night—setting down a small pot at the youngest of four brother's feet.

The freckled turtle nodded, and sat cross-legged at the pot. As the lizard left, he briefly took in the way she limped and walked stiffly. A sliver of fear slid down the young turtle's back; his owner must have misused her again.

He waited for his brothers to join him, and, after subtly bowing their heads and closing their eyes, and thanking whatever higher power there might've been for their meal, they all shoved handfuls of breakfast in their mouths: carrot peelings, rotten lettuce, the tops of radishes, the core of apples, and, occasionally, the rare, non-bruised ends of bananas. It was no proper meal, but it was food—and that's all that mattered.

After eating all of the contents of the small pot, they stood, and awaited orders from the guards that were currently in charge while their boss was composing himself—probably from another night of drinking, the young turtle supposed.

"You, there," A guard—a lion with a good build—called out and gestured to the four brothers. "The red and the blue—head to the wagon. You are to pull today."

All four turtles were bewildered by this. They were only twelve; surely there was someone stronger that could pull the wagon.

"Uh, yes, sir…" Older stuttered, slowly taking a step towards said vehicle, which sat no more than twenty feet away. Older snorted in disbelief and followed him.

"Purple," The lion addressed the second youngest turtle. "You are to help load the wagon."

Younger nodded and jogged after his brothers.

"And you, pathetic snake-," The lion hissed at the turtle in orange, "-are to report to the chief immediately. He is not pleased."

A cold, horrifying strike of fear seized the freckled turtle. "U-Uh… Um... Y-yes, sir…" He gulped, and cast a glance over to the large tent that rested in between two slightly small tents_—'Owner's tent…'_

He dragged his feet across the campsite and to the tent, stopping right before the entrance before taking a deep breath. "M-Master…?"

"Enter," A voice growled.

Youngest entered to find he same wolf from the night before sitting lazily on his make-shift bed—a simple wooden frame with straw stuffed beneath a mountain of blankets.

The white wolf's golden eyes trailed over the turtle as he entered his tent, and smirked to himself. He huffed in cold laughter when Youngest stopped a few feet from his bed. He gestured the young turtle closer, and the turtle complied without as much as a flinch.

The wolf suddenly sat up in his bed, and gave a smile that should only be allowed for sharks to wear before they killed their prey. He patted the surface beside him, gesturing for the young turtle to climb up on the bed with him.

Youngest complied with a nervous swallow.

He knew this would happen, but he didn't expect it to be this sudden; not so early in the morning; not…

Not when his brothers could hear him.

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><p>A scream erupted from within the camp. At first, everyone was silent and pricked their ears and strained their ear holes for any sign of danger. And then it came again, and everyone went about their own business…<p>

…Everyone except for three turtles who were currently missing the youngest of their group.

Younger dropped the box he was carrying. Oldest froze in his movements of strapping a harness to himself. And Older snarled and spat and cursed as he fought the guards to get to his little brother.

Their baby brother. Their light. Their responsibility. Their brother…

Their _brother_…

And Younger was slapped for dropping his box; and Oldest was shoved to the ground for not following directions; and Older was pinned to the ground and whipped on his thighs and in the crook of the back of his legs.

Youngest was eventually released from the tent. Though he was disoriented and in immense pain, he made it to a guard, who roughly escorted him to his brothers. They were allowed a quick reunion when Youngest saw it.

"Older…" He slurred. "You… We… have a stream…"

Youngest watched the blood on the back of Older's legs trickle down his calves and make tiny pools on the ground. Youngest gave a pained smile.

And his brother held him. His red-banded brother held him.

And he watched the stream.

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><p><strong>Me:<strong> What do you guys think? Too much? Too little? Not enough imagery? I needz tha feedbackzzzzzz 8D .

(I know it's about two weeks late, but...Happy New Year!)


	3. Chapter 2

_Children Born in Chains_

Chapter 2

By: Soniclover28

"We near the gates! Once in the city we shall make camp and rest. Slaves! Faster!"

The great white wolf's growl could be heard all throughout the dry forests around the pack of slaves and masters and salesmen. Every slave flinched from the noise, and the carts noticeably picked up a bit more speed.

Younger sat up a bit to look over the other children slaves' heads to see the cart behind them. The one his two older brothers were pulling. They were both straining, their eyes fixed on the ground before them, focusing only on carrying the weight of the cargo they had to transport.

Younger's chocolate brown eyes wandered sadly to his little brother, who sat chained to a notch in the cart, just like all the other slaves. Every slave was only allowed a foot of reach before their chains ran out slack. The purple-clad turtle couldn't even get to Youngest, who was suffering silently halfway inside his shell. The clasps around his wrists wouldn't allow him to pull his hands inside his shell.

Youngest was still wincing and softly crying out whenever the cart would hit a knot in the worn path of the forest floor.

Younger's heart ached for the freckled turtle. The least he could do was meet his brother's eyes before he sucked himself back into his shell.

Younger sighed and turned his chocolate irises upwards. There were clouds in the sky—grey clouds—and Younger figured that it would rain. He'd never been wrong about the weather. After a few years of studying the signs of rain, Younger could easily tell when and how and how long it was going to rain.

The group of slaves and slave traders were headed for a city—a very rich and good city—though Younger never caught wind of the name.

A guard started walking down the line of carts—one that Younger recognized. The male cheetah was holding a large pot of something and passing portions of it to the other slaves. When the cheetah came to the children's cart, he started passing out strawberries and raspberries to the kid slaves. He gave a small smile as Younger took the fruit from him.

Younger gave a nod of appreciation.

This was one of the kinder guards. He was Younger's favorite. The purple-clad turtle had even learned his name—Anax. Anax wore a slightly better uniform than the other guards, and was even treated with very much respect—even from Owner.

Anax tried to coax Youngest to eat some fruit, and, finally, the freckled turtle came out of his shell and took the food. The cheetah smiled, satisfied, and moved on to the other children.

Younger finished his fruit somewhat happily—even licked his fingers clean.

A thought suddenly occurred to Younger, and he looked over the children's heads again to check on his two older siblings. They hadn't received fruit. It didn't look like they were going to, either.

Younger suddenly felt greedy for licking his fingers.

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><p>They'd made it into the city. They'd been unchained and then chained again, but this time to each other in groups of six. Younger and his brothers and a pair of twin geckos were all chained in a line.<p>

Oldest was in front, with Older right behind him. Younger was next and then came Youngest. The two geckos fell right behind the freckled turtle. The clasps around the reptiles' necks bit and irritated their skin, and the heat from the day wasn't helping their case one bit.

It was multiplied by the fact that the slaves hadn't had water since sunrise, and it was well into the afternoon.

Owner had finally found a place to set up camp, and the chained slaves were sent to their tents—still in lines—to rest for the night before the auction.

Ah, yes—the auction—the real reason they were in the city in the first place.

In most cases, the slaves would be thrilled at the thought of finally being free of Owner's control. But for siblings, like the twin geckos and the very four turtles themselves, there was always the chance of being separated. Of one being sold and the other three not. Of two being sold and then one being sold again. Of just being split up from their little family of brothers.

Younger stood quietly inside their tent as the maid from breakfast set up six bowls of water in their tent. She gave them a nod and turned to leave without a word.

Younger knew that sign—there was a guard outside. Twelve years of being a slave also meant twelve years to learn 'the rules.' Slaves weren't allowed to speak with each other unless instructed to, but that was rare, and most slaves never speak to other slaves their entire lives.

Or, at least, that's what the mammals thought.

Similar to a school with the rule of no chewing gum, slaves learned to sneak in conversations when guards weren't around. And if they were, body language would speak for them.

So when the maiden lizard did what seemed like a simple nod of the head, she was actually saying 'Do not speak.' And when she paused just before leaving the tent, she was actually saying 'The guard is leaving now'. And when she whispered something under her breath, she was actually saying 'Goodnight'.

The six reptilian slaves sat down and drank their water, and then huddled together and prepared to rest for the night.

"Youngest," Oldest whispered.

"Yes, brother?" Youngest replied from his position against Younger.

"Are you well?"

"…"

"Youngest."

"I will be when I am sold tomorrow," Youngest whispered so softly, that even Younger had trouble hearing him.

"Youngest you do not mean-" Younger started.

"He does."

The four brothers' gazes swept to the twin lizards. The only difference between the two brothers was the pieces of cloth around their necks, crushed under the metal clasps, and the color of their eyes. The one that had spoken had lime green eyes, while the other had piercing, bright blue eyes.

"He has told us, as well. We are to be sold separately tomorrow. The only way we are to be together is if the same buyer will take us," The lizard with blue eyes whimpered.

"Youngest, when were you told?" Older demanded.

Youngest only shook his head and buried his head in his hands. "I was told this morning before the carts set off," He said, and Younger could see tears glistening in his baby blue eyes when he lifted his head up again. "Owner has grown bored of me."

At this, the freckled turtle burst into silent tears. The six brothers, though two of them only acquaintances, buried Youngest into a hug, and the four turtles present all cried themselves to sleep.

What youngest had told them only meant one thing:

When Owner grows 'bored' with his slaves, he simply sales them off to someone else—usually to a buyer he meets up with before the auction. And because Owner has used his slaves so much, and because the ones he keeps personal are usually too damaged for many peoples' liking, Owner knows that he most likely won't get anyone to buy said slaves.

So when Owner goes to the auction tomorrow and finds the person he's going to sell his personal slave to…

…Youngest will be killed.

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><p><strong>Me:<br>**Yes, I know that that was incredibly short, but I really wanted to let you guys know that- *Checks pulse* -I am not dead ^^;

See you in the next chap!


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